Saturday, April 12, 2014

Bharat Packers and Movers

'Oye Sally, long time, you got married, fuck! you have a child now, how's everything going and so on and so forth.'

Then he got to the point.

'So you remember that car i always wanted...'

'No.'

'Well it used to be an Ambassador. Then they came out with this variation I fell in love with. The Avigo. And then they frikkin stopped manufacturing it...'

'Wait. Why are you telling me all of this?'

'So I've found someone who's selling a second hand Avigo in Pune. And since i can't come down and have a look, i was wondering if you could, you know, go scope it out for me...'

It's been, what, ten years since we've spoken. Funny how we used to be best friends once. We even took a dump together (i mean it was different toilet cubicles but they were next to each other). it was like we were brothers. You know, the ones from different mothers. Fuck, that's so cheesy.

And then, well, guess what, a girl got in the way. Of all the cliches, it had to be the most cliched.

I loved her.

And he knew that.

And suddenly, one morning, they were dating.

I gave him the customary thump on the back. But it was never the same after that. We didn't hang out anymore. We ran into each other at parties. And had those excruciatingly long hollow conversations that last for a minute or so. And then proceeded to pretend we didn't exist. Him, me. And me, him. And that lasted for the next two years or so we had in college.

I met him the year after. Not on purpose.

A common friend was visiting New Delhi. And I happened to be there. And he happened to be there.

He had broken up with her.

Drunk, he said that he had saved me a world of trouble by making sure I hadn't ended up with her.

'You have no way of saying that', I said, 'no way at all.'

In retrospect, I think he meant it as a joke.

That was the last time we talked.

And now he calls me up ten years later.

Asshole, i think to myself, as I get off my car and walk to the door. The man answers.

'Mr. Surjit Singh', I ask.

'Yes', he says. He even looks kind of Surjity.

'Ye Udayan ne call kiya tha aapko. Main gaadi dekhne aaya hoon...'

I check the car out. The ignition and the engine seems fine. The upholstery needs some work. I drop the fucker a text.

The next day, i drive the car to Bharat Packers and Movers.

As I leave it there, I notice cars, all shapes and sizes, being lined up and put inside these larger trucks. And the trucks moving on. Taking them somewhere far away and very different.

Maybe we're the cars. Maybe, the trucks are the larger circumstances about us. And maybe, to get where we're going, we can't help but pack up and move on. And be taken wherever they take us. He did, when he started dating the girl I loved.

About Me

Introduction

The New Friends Colony Community Centre is about fifteen minutes from the agency and two from hell. When India hit independence, Nehru had them chase out all the djinns and the tantrics, outlaw magic and seal up all the manholes, public bathrooms and tunnels that led to hell. Needless to say, they missed a few. The one at the New Friends Colony Community Centre is unique, in the sense that it has actually sprouted a commercial complex about it, peopled by struggling artists, advertising executives, and personal and public demons.This blog is dedicated to the Delhi netherworld and its malcontents.